Bővebb ismertető
Tuppence continued her walk along the esplanade, passing quite close to the shelter and the young couple talking there. As she passed she caught a few words. It was the girl speaking.
"But you must be careful, Carl. The very least suspicion—"
Tuppence was out of earshot. Suggestive words? Yes, but capable of any number of harmless interpretations. Unobtrusively she turned and again passed the two. Again words floated to her.
"Smug, detestable English
Her eyebrows rose ever so slightly.
Hardly, she thought, a very wise conversation. Carl von Deinim was a refugee from Nazi persecution, given asylum and shelter by England. Neither wise nor grateful to listen assent-ingly to such words.
I
Tommy Beresford removed his overcoat in the hall of the flat. He hung it up with some care, taking time over it. His hat went carefully on the next peg.
He squared his shoulders, affixed a resolute smile to his face and walked into the sitting room where his wife sat knitting a Balaclava helmet in khaki wool.
Mrs. Beresford gave him a quick glance and then busied herself by knitting at a furious rate. She said after a minute or two:
"Any news in the evening paper?"
Tommy said:
"The Blitzkrieg is coming, hurray, hurray! Things look bad in France."
Tuppence said:
"It's a depressing world at the moment."
There was a pause and then Tommy said:
"Well, why don't you ask? No need to be so damned tactful."
"I know," admitted Tuppence. "There is something about conscious tact that is very irritating. But then it irritates you if I do ask. And anyway I don't need to ask. It's written all over you."
"I wasn't conscious of looking a Dismal Desmond."
"No, darling," said Tuppence. "You had a kind of nailed to the mast smile which was one of
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